Feeling of Belonging
by Rashomon Aetelier
Summary: If his eyes haunted him, will his eyes show him where he belongs or will his eyes bring him to what he never wanted to feel? [Oneshot, onesided SetoYugi. Implied YamiYugi. Slash, dun like dun read, Seto POV]


**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own YuGiOh. If I did, things would definitely change… and I'd have no reason to write this oneshot in the first place.  
**Author's Note to a Certain Someone:** There. It's more than a thousand words. NOW will you read it or is my work still null to you…?

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The way his eyes seem to hold all emotion in the world, the way they seem to haunt my dreams… simply unbearable. If indeed eyes are the windows into one's soul, then I have indeed looked into those eyes and seen that soul. His eyes which seem to have seen everyone but me. His soul has no place for one such as I.

I've seen him shed tears for that dog.

I've seen him shed tears for his other self.

Why would I matter whether or not he's shed tears for me? It never mattered before, if someone seemed to care. I need no one. I don't need friends as his other self so insists I do but why is it as if a part of me seems to disagree? As if a part of me wishes for those eyes to look at me and need me, look at me and shed tears because he couldn't have me? But I know better. I'd let him have me if he asked. But he'd never ask. He has his friends, he has his other self. I'm sure he'd rather have nothing to do with me.

Things are better this way.

But why does he haunt my dreams, haunt my every waking moment with tears that would never be shed for me? How could I need someone so badly though I never felt like I've needed anyone but my brother? Perhaps I've grown soft. Perhaps I've grown weak. No. That's impossible. I'd never.

Time after time, duel after duel, I've been beaten by his other self. I would admit that developing new strategies for the purpose of defeating him now borders on obsession but it is something I must do. Victory is something I must grasp once more. Of course, that was before he walked into my life and took that from me.

Perhaps it was a double-edged sword. If it was not for that one duel, he and I would never have reason to cross paths. We would never see each other as anything more than classmates.

Would we have reason to speak, he and I?

Would I need him as I do now?

My brother's insisted I take the day off. He says I've been working too hard. I, however, prefer to preoccupy my mind with matters of the corporation rather than be plagued by these thoughts that will no doubt bother me as I sleep. I have no time for these things, though they come unbidden.

I thought a walk would clear my head, not burden it with things I'd rather not think about. Perhaps this wasn't my day, I'm certain of it, seeing them walking a short distance ahead. They act as if they don't have a care in the world… and I'm most certain they indeed don't. They hadn't noticed my presence, perhaps to wrapped up in each other to notice anything else that was going on. I turn away but morbid curiosity keeps me from looking away completely. My eyes are fixated on him, fixated on his other self. I clench my fist, infuriated at the sight. Once again, I have lost to him.

As if alerted to me, crimson eyes turn my way for a brief moment. The light in those eyes seems to be mocking me, taunting me as they do on the field. His other self grasps him by the waist, pressing him against a tree and kissing him deeply. He knows I'm watching, knows of what I've been thinking.

He kisses back, arms moving around his other self's neck. Again, I feel my fist clench as I hear that tender moan. I lower my gaze as I unwillingly bear witness to a kiss I so longed to call mine, to see another claim lips I wanted to claim as mine. I'm finally made to turn away, only able to utter a grunt as I try to walk away as calmly as possible.

Perhaps he hadn't seen me. Perhaps he hadn't noticed that I was there, watching all that. So much the better, if that was the case. A bitter taste forms at the back of my mouth, a sudden constricting as well at the pit of my stomach as the kiss played in my head, over and over. He seemed happy. He seemed complete. He seemed as if there was nothing more in the world he needed… no one more in the world he wanted to have.

I hear him calling my name as I walk on. I urge myself to continue, not to turn to his calls. I'll beat his stride eventually. He'll never be able to catch up. Part of me wants to slow down. It's a hard pull, a rather magnetic one that wills me to do so. Should I, really…? And when he does catch up, what then? Did I really want to hear about what just happened and how he would explain? Explain? Inwardly, I laugh. Why did he need to? It is, after all, quite evident that I'm just another duelist to him. That and nothing more.

I didn't need this. I didn't need to hear this. I didn't want to. He calls to me, cries out to me, trying to catch my attention. But why? Why does it matter? I saw what I saw. I don't need to be tortured by further sight of it or confrontation of what I've seen. Finally, I lose him in the crowd. No longer do I hear what I have hungered to for so long.

My brisk stride slows to a walk once more. I'm certain he's out of sight. The farther the better, I say. His voice, however, won't stop. It echoes in my head. I hear it pounding with every heartbeat. My hand won't relax. My nails dig into the flesh of my palm, physically manifesting the pain I feel swelling from the bite and bile of what I'd witnessed. Again, he'd defeated me. Again I'd lost something to his other self. I shit my eyes, trying to dismiss a memory that refused to be forgotten.

I'm certain I'll be seeing that in my dreams as well.

As I walk home, I make up my mind. When I get home, I'll ignore everything and head straight to my study. I have nothing more to do but to engross myself in my work once more. Perhaps a few hours before a computer will do good to rid me of the memory. I stare at the screen as I sink into my chair. This was where I belonged and I knew it.

School the next morning is no different. Life goes on as it always has been and always will be. The teacher drones out some lesson I already have been taught years ago, something about some ancient ruler of some other trivial country. He tries to meet my gaze, he tries to call my attention once more but does it matter? I treat him as I always have: with the same façade of cool calm that they seem to reguard as arrogant. Will it matter, what sort of show I put up for him? Perhaps it won't. Why does he even bother?

I don't belong in those arms.

I don't belong with him.

He doesn't need me.

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-OWARI- 

All flames will be used to keep Malik happy with roasted marshmallows.  
This is a oneshot. I don't want geniuses leaving a plea to UPDATE.


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